The Way You Are
by Osidiano
Summary: Fifty sentences looking at fifty different sides of Manjoume and Juudai. Off-shoot of Saving You Saves Me.


Disclaimer/Note:I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!: GX, or either of the characters here, unless otherwise mentioned. I do not own Kazuki Takahashi, and no money is being made off of this piece of fiction. These sentences were done as part of a challenge race between The Mad Poet and myself, were written solely for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please, do not sue. All original ideas are original (_duh_) and belong to me, unless otherwise mentioned. I would like to share credit for many of these ideas with my friend and beta, The Mad Poet, who helps me to flesh out and make sense of most of my stories. Many of these sentences make references to my main GX story, **Saving You Saves Me**, and its timeline/events. Do not be surprised if you are confused by certain lines. In any case, please enjoy.

**50 sentences: Epsilon Set  
****Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!: GX  
Characters: Manjoume and Juudai  
**

#1—Motion  
Juudai never could stop moving, could not seem to keep his hands to himself or his mouth from running on and on and on; Manjoume wondered, briefly, if the tension would build up and up until the boy exploded from stillness before shaking his head with a sigh.

#2—Cool  
"You're my most awesomest best friend, Manjoume, even if you're an axe-murder—hey, I know that look: that's the look that says you're gonna strangle me in a second, isn't it?"

#3—Young  
No matter how many years went by, Juudai never _seemed_ any older, not with that wide and childish grin of his, those obnoxiously dramatic flourishes and all the talk of luck being made in the hands; Juudai was one of those stupid little boys who stayed young no matter what terrible things had happened to them. . . Manjoume crossed his arms over his chest and glared across the playing field, trying to figure out when it was—exactly—that he had lost that treasured innocence.

#4—Last  
Manjoume swore, as he gingerly fingered the gold plating embedded in his skin where his left eye had once been, that he would never _ever_ again let Juudai talk him into carrying around cultist paraphernalia.

#5—Wrong  
"You should know by now that you'll never win if you keep putting all you've got on your skill when you play against me, Manjoume; I've got one-percent on my side, after all."

#6—Gentle  
Manjoume had rough hands: hands with cuts and scabs across his palms bearing witness to his long and nightmarish trek through the cave systems of the island's active volcano, hands that had cracked and bled under the cold weather of the north, hands that had burned and peeled in the awesome power of the Light—he liked to imagine that someone else had taken those hands in theirs, that someone with smooth and flawless skin were holding him, touching him, caressing his face and whispering soft sweet nothings into the still air of the night, but then he would think of metal sunk deep into flesh and he was reminded why he had no room for those kinds of gentle romanticisms.

#7—One  
The number one was very important to Manjoume: being first had always been everything, but now, looking at the stiff, awkward way that Juudai carried himself beneath the red jacket he had flung over his shoulder to hide that metallic monstrosity that had taken the place of his right arm, Manjoume had to concede that sometimes it really was better to win second place.

#8—Thousand  
"_Sen_—" he was not allowed to finish the cheer for himself, as the stands erupted with the screaming of his name, and he raised his arms and smiled wide in triumphant victory; Manjoume turned his head to look back at his fallen opponent, hoping against hope that it was his long-time rival, only to be disappointed by the sight of the bowed head of some other, a harsh reminder that not everyone had joined the ranks of the professional circuit.

#9—King  
"Supreme king, tyrant. . .only children bother to distinguish between the two when they know that, no matter how they define their father and protector, the punishment will still come."

#10—Learn  
Juudai had learned to play chess since the last time they had seen one another, and Manjoume was learning the hard way that the cold and impassive look in those eyes meant that he was going to be mercilessly destroyed by superior tactics instead of dumb or impossible luck, for once.

#11—Blur  
That twisted face, the snarl, light clicking of the gauntlet's fingers too loud in the quiet after the game board's fall from the table; Manjoume recoiled, knocked his drink to the floor in his haste to stand only to realize that the shadow had passed from the room and Juudai was giving him "Gotcha" fingers with his remaining hand as he rubbed at the amulet beneath his shirt with the metallic claws that had taken the other's place.

#12—Wait  
Manjoume was standing outside the train station, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his tattered old North Academy jacket, what was left of the uniform little more than discolored rags, and he glanced at his watch for what must have been the tenth time in two minutes, asking himself why he was still there after all was said and done.

#13—Change  
When Juudai was not harshly apathetic, was not that quiet grown-up with the dark and brooding way of thinking, and when he was not frothing at the mouth with violent rage and ripping holes in his chest in an attempt to dislodge the metal embedded there, Manjoume thought that he was still very much the same young boy that he had first met in his freshman year at Duel Academy—Juudai's beaming, stupid smile and sophomoric pranks were just some of the things that never seemed to change.

#14—Command  
The first time Manjoume went to one of Juudai's underground matches had been a complete and utter accident, and had he not known the truth behind that metallic arm and the golden snakes that coiled and stretched across that chest, he might have even assumed that it was just some young man playing high priest, except that he remembered that king's tone and tyrant's mandate telling everyone that it was only a matter of time until they, too, were slaughtered like lambs before the might and power of his army.

#15—Hold  
He could not hold it back forever, and when they saw each other the next morning, his fist connected with Juudai's jaw with a satisfying crack—for a moment, though, Manjoume did not know if it was his knuckles or his rival's face that had been the first to break.

#16—Need  
". . .There was a reason that I never wanted to grow up, Manjoume; the world needs heroes, not more misunderstood vigilantes."

#17—Vision  
It felt like they were standing at the edge of the world, over looking the precipice into the frothy water far down below as wave after wave crashed and broke against the rocks at the bottom of Juudai's "thinking cliff," which he claimed to have the greatest view on the whole island; looking at that smile and thinking of what it meant to fail, Manjoume could not help but agree.

#18—Attention  
"You know, I was thinking—"  
"Here, look at this: it's shiny and—"  
"Ooo, hey!"

#19—Soul  
Sometimes, Manjoume thought that he might be going to Hell for setting aside God's Will and the White Order, and then he would look up into those laughing eyes and that smirking mouth, and remember that the warning over the gateway to its lowest, most foul and agonizing level read: "Osiris Red—Boy's Dorms."

#20—Picture  
He kept few pictures, but the one he liked most he took with him from city to city, setting it on the bedside table at one hotel after another: a photograph from years ago of a girl with long blonde hair and a pretty white mask with her arms wrapped around his neck, his face a brilliant shade of red as he tried to wave the cameraman away—he would have to thank Juudai for taking it next time he saw him.

#21—Fool  
"What happens to the Fool when the journey's over, anyway—I mean, does the guy just disappear into alchemic goo, or something?"

#22—Mad  
Maybe this was what it felt like to go completely and utterly insane, Manjoume decided between laughs and sake shots, bumping his shoulder into the cold hard metal of Juudai's gauntlet arm as they made another toast to ancient Peruvian cults.

#23—Child  
"It sounds like you had a very troubled childhood, so why don't you lie down for a minute and tell me—"  
"We are _absolutely not_ playing Freud on your living room sofa."

#24—Now  
Juudai always knew just when to draw the right cards, always had just the right trump to pull to turn all the tables: unless, of course, they will playing a mat game, in which case his deck completely fell apart—Manjoume tried not to think about why that was, and concentrated on enjoying the taste of victory while he could.

#25—Shadow  
Another dark stain smeared across the white soul of his humanity, but Manjoume shook the thought of fire and the sick stench of brimstone from his mind, and lost himself in this moment of moral weakness.

#26—Goodbye  
Juudai's goodbyes always soured too quickly, always left something unsaid—Manjoume hoped that that would be the boy's excuse for coming back next time he had a match in Domino.

#27—Hide  
She kept her face behind that pretty mask, white feathers fanning out across the bottoms of her cheekbones that were just barely visible: if Manjoume was not careful, he would see the vicious scaring and remember why he should have killed his rival earlier in his freshman year, and that was something he tried so hard not to think about anymore.

#28—Fortune  
He used to think that money could buy a man's luck, but he had plenty of the former and none of the latter; at one time, he had believed that the ever-turning Wheel was behind everything—now, though, he was far too concerned with the problem of defining what made a man fortunate to deal with how he got that way.

#29—Safe  
A phone call consisting of some muffled, confusing language and a forced laugh, a hoarse and heartfelt conviction expressed with Rintama slang and an insinuation of violence; an hour later, with the dial tone ringing loudly in his ears, Manjoume wondered what it would be like to know that the people he cared about were safe.

#30—Ghost  
"You're not real: if I was crazy, you could be a hallucination, but I'm not, so you can't be, and if he was dead, you could be haunting me, but he's not, so just _go away_."

#31—Book  
Packages in the mail, with brief notes scrawled by a familiar hand, and a sick sense of foreboding enveloped him as he opened each box, but the contents were always the same: comic books.

#32—Eye  
"Don't even worry, Manjoume: chicks totally dig guys with eye-patches, 'cause it's like, cool, and stuff—y'know, like a pirate!"

#33—Never  
It had never really occurred to him that Juudai might have a plan this time, and it had never really seemed plausible to think that there might come a period of silence, of stillness, where there was simply nothing left; such a plan might imply that the young man was capable of foresight, and surely that alone was a proven impossibility.

#34—Sing  
When his birthday came and went without a word, it dawned on him that he actually _missed_ hearing that fool sing to him over the phone, at which point Manjoume became so disgusted with himself he thought he might puke over the sentimentality of it all.

#35—Time  
"Explain to me _again_ why I waste my time hanging out with you. . .?"  
"Because you don't have any other friends to waste time with, that's why."

#36—Stop  
There were times when Manjoume just wished everything would slow to a halt, wished that the whole world could reverse itself and they could all go back to the early days when life was as easy as stopping the next group of psychotic evil cultists from taking over the world or turning all of their classmates into zombies.

#37—Sudden  
"Ah, yes, it all makes sense now: you're an idiot, and a loser, and a no-good _hack_ and _that's _why I hate you!"

#38—Wash  
He tried to scrub the filth, the sin and failure, from his skin, but to no avail: his rival had rubbed every stinking, fetid black mark in deep until it became a part of him, though at the time neither had seemed to notice.

#39—Torn  
Each new adventure left a mark on Manjoume's old jacket, and the long rip up along the back seam was no exception, he just wished that a tear that big would have been from something a little more gloat-worthy than escaping Rei's wrath after he and Juudai accidently walked in on her in the boys' bath house again.

#40—History  
It was in their history class that Manjoume had discovered Juudai's slight disability, a reading disorder that kept him well away from the text book and had the younger boy up all the following night carefully making notes for the next test on card templates.

#41—Power  
"And yet, no matter what new tricks you try to pull, I _always_ manage to kick your ass the _exact same way _I did in high school—gee, funny how that works, huh, Manjoume?"

#42—Bother  
Manjoume could feel a twitch going off underneath one eye, his hands clenching and unclenching compulsively as he fought off the urge to lash out at his companion; honestly, one more axe-murdering polar bear wrestling joke, and he would _show_ Juudai just what he had learned while he was up at North Academy.

#43—God  
He knelt in prayer with his head bent and pride safely in check on that holy ground, pushing aside doubt in favor of salvation and the beauty of the divine; he wished he could share this feeling, this devotion and passion, with his rival, but understood that some people just could not accept God's light.

#44—Wall  
"Talking to you, Juudai, is like beating my head against a wall, only less satisfying."

#45—Naked  
It was too quiet in the empty bath house, the rippling and light splashing of the water as he sunk deeper into its warm embrace deafeningly loud to his ears: many times before, he had wished for the silent solitude that was so often denied him in years past, but now it left him feeling naked and alone, vulnerable and without purpose.

#46—Drive  
"I play for the same reason that everybody else does: to become number one, the best, the next King of Duels—_duh_."

#47—Harm  
He was trying to cut one of the snakes out of his chest when Manjoume came back to the hotel room with more drinks, had a knife from the kitchen jammed deep into the cleft between his pectorals, twisting the blade in an attempt to loosen the metallic creature's demonic hold, his face distorted with pain and his breathing harsh and irregular; years later, Manjoume would still be wondering if he could have stopped it from happening by returning sooner.

#48—Precious  
"Don't be ridiculous; I'm not the guy's best friend—look, I never even _liked_ him. . ." the lie slipped out his mouth though he tried to swallow it, and he felt it burn the whole way down his throat.

#49—Hunger  
The loss hurt and ached inside, awakened a need to lose himself in some mindless hunger—sex, or alcohol, or violent competition, it did not matter as long as he did not have to turn to God and ask why, Manjoume thought he might make it through the dark hours and back into the light that lay somewhere up ahead—but his hands ached for the familiar pages of his beloved Bible.

#50—Believe  
"There's gotta be somethin' that you can believe in, Manjoume: for instance, I believe that the good guy _always_ wins, no matter what."


End file.
